


Sing me a Lullaby

by Jezabel



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: (I mean this is Brahms we're talking about), (most of the abusif tags are from OC's past), Caretaking, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Manipulation, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Trauma, Voyeurism, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jezabel/pseuds/Jezabel
Summary: A young man on the run finds a remote and cheap place he could hide and rest at, ignoring the dangers that could come with it, he takes a step towards the mansion.
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	1. Nice to meet you

**Author's Note:**

> With this pandemic letting me completely stuck at home, I've been watching tons of movies, and chatting with friends made me realised my OC deserved himself a creepy man in the walls.  
> To change from my Dead by Daylight fic outbreak x')  
> This work is mainly for me but if others can enjoy it then, I'm happy to provide any form of entertainment haha!  
> Enjoy!

He's been on the run for a long while now. Since that day he pushed his caretaker down the stairs, grabbing everything he could put in his backpack and left the house, breaking the curse of being confined inside his whole life. He could never stop at the same location for a long time, he knew he didn't kill them and that they'll be looking for him. He tried asking people for help but it ended up endangering others more than anything. He did succeed in running away before anyone could get hurt, and kept contacts with some of the people he met. He just couldn't meet them anymore.

This was his last night in the country hotel he was staying at, had to keep on the move but didn't know where he could go next. Running to England was a good idea but it wasn't any safer than the other places he was before. He was looking through the window, his phone buzzing in his pocket.

[Chocolat: hey, how's it going bud?

Fraise: could be better. need to find somewhere safe to go asap.]

He paused for a second before writing again.

[Fraise: well.. safe until I have to run again.

Chocolat: I might have found something for you, it's a bit creepy but…

Fraise: dude. Anything to stop that neverending chase..]

He sent him a link to a real estate website, that seemed fishy just from the homepage. The link showed an old mansion, not that different from where he used to live, but from a different era, the architecture proving it. And clearly darker but he wouldn't mind that. It was selling for a ridiculously low price, and he knew there had to be a reason to it. He did get all the money he could from the credit card he stole from his caretaker but no one wanted to sell anything to someone who pays only in cash. At least, these people didn't seem the type to refuse cash payments. He didn't have time to think on it, and judging by the messages he exchanged with these people, they didn't mind getting rid of the place as soon as possible.

He took a train ticket and made sure he has a ride all the way to the mansion. For once in a long time, he slept soundly. It was a temporary stay, but it'll last longer than any hotel he could stay at, with no one around to actually see him and tell where he is. Some would say the half-blonde, half-pink long hair color wasn't doing him any favors but after he tried many disguises, he knew it was pointless. Nothing could stop town gossip.

Once the morning came, he rushed to the check-out counter as soon as it opened, the joyful staff surprised to see him out this early.

"How was your stay?"

"It was great. Thanks."

"Where are you off to now?"

He stopped, looking back at her before gathering his best fake smile.

"Wherever the wind brings me to."

He finished paying and ran outside, noticing the parking lot was empty. This wasn't good. There always were taxis and yet none were to be found. He didn't waste time and ran to the main street, finding one taxi that probably didn't get the memo not to come, luckily for him.

The woman in the hotel grabbed her phone, whispering as the interlocutor came in.

"He's gone. Probably to the station."

…

Thankfully, he was used to it. He knew how to trick them, and he knew how to hide. He got into different trains, taking the long route to his, but not the longest as it would be too easy to narrow it down later. He got into his train at the last minute, right before the door closes, hiding himself in a corridor's corner until the station couldn't be seen anymore. Exhausted, he went to his seat, taking his phone out to text his friends.

…

The whole ride to the mansion was silent, the driver not even asking him why he would go to such a place, but he didn't need words to convey his judgement. He stopped a bit before the gates, Fraise guessing he didn't want to go to whatever cursed place he was heading in.

"How much do I-"

"Already been taken care of."

That surprised him. Probably the agency's staff. They really wanted to sell this, didn't they. He took his luggage, jumping when the driver grabbed his arm.

"You shouldn't go in there."

"... I don't have a choice."

He sighed, pulling his arm away from the man, it wasn't the first time he had someone trying to tell him to run away from wherever he was trying to hide. He lifted his heavy bag all the way to the gate, the staff waiting for him there.

"Oh."

"... Hello?"

"Sorry I didn't expect you to be so young. Hello, I'm Eleanor."

"I'm Fraise."

"You will be paying in cash, right?"

"..... Yes…."

"Don't worry. We're not judging! No contracts needed either, the place is yours on a different alias, as you requested."

".. thanks…."

He may be suspicious, but they were just as much. He gave her the money, taking the key back.

"All yours!"

"... So what's the story? Why are you so desperate to sell this place?"

"..."

He sighed, a bit annoyed.

"I already paid and got the keys, don't you think it's safe to tell me? It's not like I can cancel anymore."

She seemed to think about it, before shrugging and nodding.

"Years ago there was a family of three in this house, after a fire incident, the young son of the family died. They never were the same since, never leaving the house and getting their food delivered. I don't remember the details but they hired a young woman, probably as a help or something, as they were leaving for vacations. They never came back."

"... Why?"

"Suicide it seemed."

"Damn…"

He left a pause, re-adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

"What happened to the help?"

"Well.. that's where it gets weird."

He frowned.

"She said she was paid to take care of the family's son. When everyone told her it was impossible, she didn’t try to make us understand and told us that a man came out of the mansion's walls, attacking her and the people in the house at that moment. One of them died apparently but…"

"Sounds a bit.. crazy….."

But not unbelievable.

"She said she killed the man who attacked them. But we never found bodies when we came to investigate. No blood, no signs of a fight. She didn't press the matter further and left the country."

"Wow…"

He had a bitter laugh.

"No wonder you couldn't sell the place."

She laughed.

"Well. It's yours now."

He shrugged.

"I'm fine with it."

She got ready to leave, giving him a map.

"Here's a map of where you can go for groceries and such. You can make them deliver but not sure they'll want to come up all the way here. Oh! And there's no reception here."

"Oh, it's fine, I got a pocket wifi."

He couldn't afford to be found with a non-secured wifi that wasn't his. He watched her leave and walked to the mansion after closing the big iron gates.

…

The place seemed way bigger than what he saw on the pictures, and it definitely will be challenging to stay alone in such big and empty rooms. Thankfully, he'll have his friends online. He couldn't risk to bring them here.

He took a quick look around, the anxiety and the travel tiring him too much to actually visit the place right now. The staff did tell him they filled the kitchen with some food so he'll get some time to get used to the house before going grocery shopping. He did take some snacks with him too. He grabbed a drink from the fridge and made himself a bagel sandwich before going to the room he decided to make his. He believed it was the master's bedroom, judging by the huge king size bed and the furniture that would fit an elderly couple.

He put on his pajamas, a baggy grey shirt and its set of pants, before turning off the lights and checking his phone while eating.

[ Chocolat: you made it?

Fraise: yeah.. it was close but I made it. Thanks for the help.

Vanille: is it haunted?]

He liked these two. They were the ones who helped him chose his new identity when he was at the lowest, and took aliases similar to his so that they'll be "bound forever" or something like that. They helped him a lot and he wished they could be with him.

[ Fraise: well I still got time to find that out….

Chocolat: spooky…]

He smiled and chatted until he fell asleep.

…

He woke up in the middle of the night, groggy from the lack of sleep, wondering why he even woke up in the first place. He tried to sleep again and froze as he heard the wood of the stairs creaking. They couldn't have found him already, that was way too fast, he even looked behind him once in the cab, multiple times.

He slowly grabbed his phone, starting a voice call and muting his friends, slowly getting out of bed to get near the door.

It sounded like footsteps, they were cautious, slow, the noise coming mostly from the creak under the weight of whoever was walking around. He slowly opened the door and, as he did, all the noises stopped. There was something eerie about the place being deadly silent, despite one, maybe two, people in it.

If he's learned anything from movies or books, is that going unprepared straight to the danger was the worst idea possible. So he went back in his room, closing and locking the door, getting his pocket knife in his bag before sliding back to bed, ending the phone call.

He kept chatting with his friends until they reassured him, probably the wood giving in. It was an old house after all. He fell back asleep.

…

He woke up fully rested the next day, sliding off the bed a bit groggy, putting his phone in his pocket as he slowly got himself to the kitchen for a slow breakfast. Maybe once he's fully woken up he'll try walking around the place. He was still a bit scared he'd get lost.

He couldn't believe the library of this place, with books that goes up to the ceiling. He was glad the agency left them there because he would've had a lot of trouble filling that himself. He also found an interior pool, happily surprised it had been cleaned and kept well, so he could use it right away. He wondered if anyone ever used it at all. He never knew how to swim, maybe this time he'll get enough time to learn before he has to leave the place.

He got back to the second floor, opening the doors he didn't look at the day before, finding out it was mostly bedrooms. He opened one and jumped a bit.

"Uh… hi…."

A porcelain doll was neatly dressed, sitting on the bed, unmoving, as dolls do. He slowly walked in the room, looking around, deducing it was probably the boy's room, the one the agency's staff told him about. He looked around, smiling at the wooden toys, turning to the doll on the bed.

Its face was cracked, someone probably carefully fixed it but you could see it had been broken before. He slowly touched it from the tip of his fingers. He always liked dolls, he felt… related to them, somehow. Probably part of his trauma. But just thinking about it made him sick, shaking his head before noticing the paper next to the doll. He frowned as he took it.

"How to take care of Brahms…"

He looked back to the doll.

"Hello there, Brahms. I'm Fraise."

He grabbed the tiny hand in his fingers, laughing as he shake it slowly before reading the paper. 

"We've got ourselves a full schedule, don't we."

He smiled, at least it'll keep him occupied until his friends wake up so they can chat again. He took the doll in his arms carefully, getting to the kitchen to make some lunch.


	2. Preying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Routines settles in and things starts to take a turn that doesn't please Fraise in the least.

He was getting used to his routine with the doll, leaving the house only to go get some groceries, hiding well enough that he was the new owner of the mansion in the forest. To anyone, he is a camper who's staying in the middle of the forest, away from everyone. He did stay careful and tried to avoid people, coming to the shop only when the shop clerk was alone, hiding his hair in a hat each time, wearing sunglasses. The clerk once asked about it and he found a way to lie about being affected by daylight. Any time now, a rumor about him being a vampire will start.

As soon as he got home and put the groceries in the kitchen, he went to get Brahms, a bit surprised to find him in a different chair than where he initially put him. He guessed his memory was playing tricks on him. He took him in his arms and went for their daily piano lesson.

He hated playing it, trauma assaulting him each time he sat in front of it, but for some reasons, he felt like playing would help him better than avoiding it. He would often end "lessons" in tears, hugging Brahms and leaving the room hastily, locking the door. And today was no different.

After calming down, he made dinner and ate with the doll sitting next to him. He was glad it couldn't eat what he made because he was a terrible cook. He was improving now that he had time to actually try and follow recipes but he still had to work on it. On the list he found next to Brahms, there was a note about how he should always make a plate for the doll, but it didn't like eating with others around, so he should just freeze it. He wondered when he should get rid of it, maybe once the freezer gets filled up…

He put Brahms to bed after eating, making sure to turn off the lights and close the curtains, locking the door behind him. The fear of being found out would always make him lock every door when he got out of a room, giving him time to run if anyone got to him.

He chatted with his friends before going to bed. He didn't tell them about the doll, he knew it was a bit odd that he even started caring for it in the first place, and he knew his friends would think he completely lost it. When sleep finally came to claim him, he dozed off, hugging the blanket.

…

Music made him woke up, grunting as he tried to guess if he was dreaming or not. It was the piano.

"... What a fucking nightmare…"

He left the bed, staying barefoot as he opened his door, slowly walking towards the noise. It came from the study and it stopped when he got too close. He knew it was dangerous to even walk in there but the people looking for him would never be this dramatic. If it was a burglar with a twisted sense of humor, he'll show him his. Sadly enough, his humor came with a pocket knife.

He unlocked the door and slowly got inside, looking around carefully, searching for any signs of life and finding none. He took each steps carefully, searching around without success.

A pinch on his neck made him grunt.

He tried to turn around and his eyes were covered, enable to see what was happening, he tried to fight back but soon enough his strength was giving in, forcing him to fall back asleep.

The piano woke him up, he didn't remember much of what happened before he fell asleep. Did he even woke up? Was he dreaming?

He was sitting in front of the piano, hands were playing on it but they weren't his. It took time for him to realise he was sitting on someone's lap. Just like back at his place. This must be a dream.

"You cried while playing again today."

The voice was childish, innocent even. He tried to move but his whole body was too tired to do anything. The voice asked.

"Why?"

He couldn't talk. Well... He could but he was taking so long to find his words, and then move his jaw, lips and tongue. His voice sounding more like a breath.

"I… Brahms?"

He tried looking up, seeing what seemed like a porcelain mask, it seemed cracked too. He wanted to touch it.

The eyes behind it looked back at him, the hands on the piano not stopping. 

"... Why?"

Fraise frowned, shaking his head slowly.

"Bad.. memories…"

One hand stopped playing, fingers slowly sliding on his face, getting rid of the hair that covered it, gentle.

"You don't have to play. If it hurts."

Was he really dreaming? This felt different.

"... It's better to… to face them."

The other hand on the piano stopped too, sliding on his arm to hug him against the torso he was resting against. He felt the cold contact of the mask on his forehead, feeling dizzy again.

"Let's make new memories."

…

He woke up in his bed, well-rested. He remembered what happened during the night, yet thought he dreamt the whole thing. He looked around his room, to make sure it didn't change, and sure enough it was in the same state he left it as. He sighed and went to take a shower, getting ready to go get the doll.

"Hello sleepyhead."

He took it out of the bed, changing its clothes.

"You appear in my dreams now too. I can't get enough of you, little guy."

He took it in his arms and started the day. 

…

He didn't have anymore strange dreams since that one with the piano. And he couldn't even remember it completely. He kept tending to the doll, trying to change their routines sometimes to spice things up a bit, thinking that if no one tells him to stop, then he must have been doing a good job. One of if friends succeeded in sending him a screen, with some sort of secret online market only him knew of.. One day he'll really have to ask him how he knew all of these. 

He started doing movie nights, connecting his phone to the screen, avoiding anything with dolls in it, just in case.

He sang more often too. After being forced to sing for so long, he hated it, but it would sometimes caught him off guard, when he's cooking or cleaning the place. 

One day, as he was singing to himself, he heard the creak of a door behind him, making him jump and turn around. He found Brahms on the ground. He hastily got to it, taking it in his arms.

"Did you fall?"

He couldn't quite remember where he put it before but he didn't think it was near the door. Maybe this isolated life was getting to him after all.

The day went on, and he heavily sighed as he fell on his bed, barely able to keep his eyes opened. Cleaning this huge place all by himself was way harder than he thought it would be. Even though there were rooms that seemed less dirty than they should have been.

He didn't even noticed that he fell asleep. He just felt a strong pressure on his chest, making him open his eyes. He didn't have the strength to be surprised at the mask that welcomed him, the heavy weight on his chest being the body on top of his. He tried to speak but fingers slid on his lips.

"You have a pretty voice…"

Just like before, a childish, innocent voice was speaking, yet lips were unmoving.

"I wish you'd sing me to sleep."

He moved his head, getting the fingers away from it.

"What do you… want me to sing?"

Speaking felt way harder than the last time. And he would like if he didn't find the laugh behind the mask a bit threatening.

"Sing me a lullaby…"

He frowned.

"I don't.. really know.."

"I know one. It goes like this."

The laugh was threatening but the singing was way worse. He felt a hand slid from his neck to his cheek, the mask slowly getting close to his ear, sliding the cold lips all the way to his neck, making him shiver as one of his hand grabbed the one on his face. Everything seemed to fade away.

…

Fraise was far from stupid. He was starting to think these dreams were a bit too real, but couldn't prove any of them actually happened. The door to his room was locked so no one could've come inside, but there definitely was someone in his room last night. He remembered what the agency staff told him, making him check his whole room for entrances to a secret passage or anything that could link his room to somewhere else.

But he couldn't find anything. He tried pushing the furnitures, took the paintings off the walls, checked under the bed, but was only met with dust. His rational mind started thinking of a situation where he could've been hypnotized, his less rational part screaming he was being haunted. But he never believed in ghosts.

Lost in his thoughts, he decided to leave Brahms for now, thinking he could probably relax for a day. He started wandering around the house, searching for any entrance inside the walls, finding some but they were all sealed, just like the agency told him when he asked about it on his first days in the house.

After spending the whole day searching around, he finally gave up, deciding to take a bath to help him relax a bit. All he could think of was that, if he wasn't being haunted, an outsider had the key to his place. And it's not like he could change all the locks without putting himself at risk. He'll have to face them himself. Yet they didn't seem like they wanted to meet… despite the dreams.

After spending near to an hour into the bathtub, he got out to put on his pajamas after drying himself. He went to get his clothes to the washer with the rest but couldn't find them anywhere. His mind started blaring all its alarms again.

"I probably put them in before the bath."

He tried to convince himself. He had to convince himself.

He locked his bedroom and was ready to get into bed when the landline phone started ringing. He stopped breathing. No one should be able to contact him. He didn't have a number or anything linked to the phones in this mansion. If he took it, it'll prove someone lives here.

He ran to the plug, trying to pull it out but it seemed merged with the wall, unmovable. He grabbed his pocket knife, trying to cut the wire, finding it harder than steel. But it didn't stop him. The ringing did. He kept trying until he finally cut the wire, an electric blast sparking out of it, shocking him to the ground as he lost consciousness.

…

He opened his eyes to the lullaby hummed on top of him, barely able to open his eyes, and even when he did, his vision was too blurry to be able to see anything. He heard the noise of his pocket knife being opened and closed repeatedly before the voice said.

"Take care of me."

He frowned, his fists clenching as much as they could despite how weak he was.

"Stop this bullshit."

He could guess the mask, tilting its head to the side.

"You're not Brahms. You're some sick guy playing tricks on me. And I had enough."

His rage was overtaking his weakness, making him able to talk without much trouble.

"I've been fighting creeps my whole life… you're no different…. You don't scare me."

He tried to get up but a hand pressed on his forehead, pushing him back down. Maybe it was the dizziness but it felt like the hand was bigger than his whole head. The voice seemed closer.

"Take care of Brahms."

He felt the cold lips on his cheek, another pinch to his neck as he fell back unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.  
> I'm not really satisfied with this chapter haha.  
> Let's say I was just really sleepy when I wrote this ^^"  
> Hope you like it regardless!  
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos too, I was ready to get none so I'm really happy to get some ♥️


	3. Sick Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fraise decides to try and trap the intruder that has been tormenting him. Focusing on this, he doesn't realise the danger coming up.

When he woke up tucked in bed, he never felt that angry in his entire life. And considering what he went through, that's saying something. He got himself ready and went to get Brahms, trying his best not to pass his anger to it, as he felt this would end up badly. He spent one day normally, trying to stay as calm as he could despite knowing someone was toying with him. And he didn't know how.

So he started to try and trap them. Put bells on the door knobs, leaving cans and bottles in the hallway, anything that could wake him up before anyone could get to him. He took away his pocket knife but he didn't mind, taking one of the kitchen's knife with him felt just as safe.

But the man wasn't stupid either, and avoided coming back. They were both trapped here and none of them had the upper hand.

Until one night.

He got woken up by the sound of one of the cans, grabbing his knife to get to his door. This time he'll be ready, no more half-asleep bullshit. He ran to the staircase, ready to fight back. He'll be able to-

"Good evening, Fraise."

The voice almost made him throw up as soon as he heard it. Actually, he did throw up.

"Now now. You know I don't like you doing that."

He wipe his mouth with his arm, his whole body shaking as his old caretaker was joined by her two goons at the bottom of the stairs. He could still find a way out. He started to ran upstairs only to be stopped by two other guards, fighting them as best he could before being captured.

"We've got some rehabilitation to do."

…

Fraise has spent his whole life being treated as if he was a doll. Little to no movements, talks only when ordered or allowed to, sometimes spending his whole day unmoving if his caretaker didn't feel like letting him out of bed. It was one of the maid, that couldn't bare the treatment he was imposed, who showed him it wasn't normal, who freed him from this. She was killed as soon as they caught up on it. And he succeeded in escaping after years of planning.

He won't be able to escape again that easily.

He was lying in bed in one of the dresses his caretaker loved so much. He hated it. There was so many frills and ornaments, he couldn't move freely and it was definitely helping them to keep him still. He was lying in Brahms room, on Brahms bed.

"My husband arrives tomorrow morning. We'll be leaving shortly after."

After he got the chance to rape him as he used to. He should've killed him when he got the chance. But right now, his best bet was to stay still, play nice, he could still escape them at the train station.

She took Brahms by the neck and he had to restrain himself from jumping at her.

"A new little friend? He's cute."

Staying unmoving was the hardest thing he had to do in years right now.

"I like him. But you need to be punished for your actions."

She ripped Brahms arms and he stared at the ceiling, if he cries or yells, it'll only get worse. She let Brahms fall to the ground and leaves the room, locking the door.

As soon as she's gone far away enough, he gets off the bed and run to the doll, holding it against his chest as he cries as silently as he can, his shoulder jerking at each sob. He should have been more careful. He should have thought of an escape plan.

He tried killing himself before but they always managed to save him, and the punishment following was the worst he ever had, he still has the scars on his thighs.

Lost in his sobs, he doesn't hear the wood creaking behind him, jumping as a hand slowly slide on his shoulder, another one grabbing his arm to pull his back against the chest behind him.

"Don't cry, Fraise…"

He almost laugh at that, what should he be doing then? 

"You better take a good look, man. I'm never coming back here."

The hand on his shoulder slides on his arm too, caressing it up and down, trying to be reassuring.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere."

He frowned. The voice was lower, no more childlike innocent tone, yet it was still high, a bit unfitting to the body holding him. He turned around to look at the mask. That's what he wanted after all, meeting with him while he wasn't half-asleep. He let his fingers slowly caress the mask, calming his sobs down.

"You should stay hidden, they will-"

"They broke my arms…"

He could see his eyes, wide and kind almost, like deers'. Yet anger was oozing from him.

"...I'll break theirs."

It took a minute for him to take his breath back, whispering.

"You ARE Brahms…."

He hugged him a bit more, Fraise letting him, finding the strong chest reassuring. But the fear of seeing someone die because of him again took over.

"They will kill you… you should just-"

"You are not. Going. Anywhere."

The arms held him a bit harder again.

"You are mine."

He frowned, he didn't like that possessiveness after all he's been through, but the voice whispered lower.

"And I'm yours too."

Now that one, he wasn't used to hear. He looked back to him, the man slowly pressing the porcelain lips against his, and he let him. His arms wrapped around his neck and he nuzzled his face into the crook of it, surprised by the beard there. He felt hands sliding his dress up, not even caring if it was his, the cold metal against his thigh making him jump.

"I'm giving this back to you. You'll need it."

He fixed the pocket knife to one of his undergarments on his thigh, hugging him again once he's done.

"Now listen to me…"

…

He waited for dawn, as Brahms told him to, before leaving his room. As he promised, the door was unlocked and there were no guards to be found. He threaded carefully around his own traps he originally put for Brahms, going downstairs as quietly as he could, the rustle of the dress annoying him more than anything. Once he was at the beginning of the longest corridor of the house, he took a deep breath and kicked a can as strongly as he could before starting running. Soon enough, multiples guards were behind him, but he could hear their muffled screams and their footsteps disappearing, one by one. He turned around once, only to see arms coming out of a room to grab one of them and pulling him inside. He kept running as he was asked to, straight to the interior pool.

Once he got there, no one was following him anymore. He caught his breath back, staring at the door while walking backwards from it, hearing the distant screams being choked up, echoing in the room. A hand grabbing his neck made him jump and gasp for air.

“That’s it. You’re in for a punishment, boy.”

He tried to fight it.

“Let… go….”

“With pleasure.”

He felt throwed off his balance, trying to stay on his feet before he fell into the deep part of the pool. He tried swimming back up, having no idea how, the heavy dress pulling him deeper and deeper. Water was filling up his lungs, he tried to reach a hand to the surface as he saw shadows moving there, but couldn’t grasp anything, not even the walls he was enclosed with. He felt his consciousness fleeting before a powerful hand grabbed his arm and pulled him out.

He coughed out all the water stuck in his lungs, the burning feeling torturing him as his hands were clenching around the arm holding him, recognizing Brahms right away. He couldn’t stop the tears, his hands grabbing the man’s cardigan as he tried to get his breath back.

“I told you I wouldn’t let you go.”

He could barely hear him, looking back into his eyes, noticing a shadow behind him. His caretaker was holding the kitchen knife behind him, he yelled, pushing Brahms away, getting his pocket knife out before planting it in the woman’s chest, pushing her down on the ground. In a blind rage, he kept planting the knife repeatedly into her chest, yelling on the last hit.

He felt the powerful arms grabbing him and pulling him against Brahms chest, sobbing against it as he closed his eyes, his whole body shaking. The blood was slowly pouring and melted with the pool’s water, most of it covering Fraise.

Once he calmed down, he could hear Brahms singing, humming to him as he was rocking him in his arms gently. He felt as if his neverending nightmare was finally over. Brahms lifted him into his arms and walked out of the room. He looked around, noticing the bodies along the corridor, sighing as he felt like nothing could stop them now.

“What happened here?!”

He groaned, looking at the man standing at the entrance lobby of the mansion, his eyes showing nothing but hate and disgust.

“Oh. I forgot about you.”

“Let go of him THIS INSTANCE.”

The caretaker’s husband just arrived, and he was in for a surprised. Fraise moved a bit to ask Brahms to put him down.

“Where’s my wife?”

“It’s fine. I did what you never could. I killed the bitch.”

The man straightened in shock.

“I… I told you I was going to help you out… Why would you-”

“Enough.”

Brahms walked to the man and grabbed his arm strongly, letting a cry of pain out of him before turning to Fraise.

“What should I do with this one?”

Fraise starting going up the stairs, looking back down.

“He’s been abusing and raping me my whole life. With that in mind, do whatever you want.”

He left, hearing screams echo through the whole mansion.

…

He waited in Brahms’ room, his hands, legs and dress still covered in blood. He tried to take the dress off but couldn’t get to the zipper in the back, and sadly enough, he left his knife in his caretaker’s chest and didn’t intend to take it out. He heard Brahms come back after some minutes, noticing how little blood he had on him, most of it coming from when he held him more than his victims. He walked to him, his body still shaking. Brahms pulled on the dress.

“Why are you still wearing this?”

“I can’t take it off…”

Brahms took his knife out, making Fraise jump a bit as he pulled a bit more on the dress and cut it open from the front, until he could take it off him. He let him do, taking off absolutely every piece of fabric he was forced to put on before taking him in his arms and bringing him to the bathroom. He got naked there too, not taking his mask away, preparing a bath while Fraise showered. He joined soon after, hugging him and not letting go, the both of them walking to the bath and resting once in it.

“... Thank you…”

“For what?”

“For helping me..”

“I did it for me too.”

Fraise smiled, pressing his head against the hairy chest.

“Thank you too.”

“.... For what?”

“For taking care of me.”

He laughed.

“We’re even then.”

…

He went straight to bed after their bath, waking up in the evening of the same day, stretching a bit before taking his phone out. He had a lot of unread messages, worried friends, but he couldn’t explain everything all at once. He did send them something to reassure them as best he could.

He was hungry, he hasn’t eaten since the day before yesterday, he didn’t have any appetite then but now it was coming back full force. He left the bed and slowly walked out the room, surprised by how calm the place was. He got downstairs and all the bodies had disappeared, blood wiped out of every wooden surface, only the carpets and rugs were still tainted. It was as if nothing ever happened.

He got to the kitchen and found Brahms there, making a sandwich.

“... Hey.”

The man rose his head, putting everything down to walk to him and hug him tight, his nose nuzzling in his hair. He was going to have and take some time to get used to this. Up until now, this man was living with him without him noticing. He had a lot of questions and doubt he would get much answered. But for now, he had to settle into his new life, the pressure of being found gone forever, making every steps a little bit lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some trouble writing this chapter, and I'm afraid I made Brahms a little bit too OOC but... I liked how it ended up!  
> Thank you for the kudos, I'm glad to see there's still some Brahms lovers out there!!

**Author's Note:**

> A little introduction to start things off, I'm still a bit unsure how long this fic is going to be, might be a bit shorter than my others ^^  
> Thank you for reading!


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